


The Ground Beneath Me

by Hoots_in_Boots



Series: Find Your Footing [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Destroy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Grunt is my son, Romance, Shakarian - Freeform, as few crew deaths as possible, first fic be kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoots_in_Boots/pseuds/Hoots_in_Boots
Summary: Shepard survived the crucible blast, but barely. Her recovery is long and painful, made bearable by the support and grounding of her friends. The war may be over now, but the survivors are already finding new obstacles on their path to a stable galaxy. The crew may have split up, but Shep can't help but get involved in their sh*t as they try to navigate their recovering worlds.This is my first (published) fic and it's my personal coping mechanism for the end of the trilogy.  Initially follows Shepard's recovery and her journey to accepting her life post-Reaper war. Not planning any publishing schedule, just dumping scenes as they come to me.
Relationships: Female Shepard & Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: Find Your Footing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555627
Comments: 18
Kudos: 64





	1. Still and Breathless

Ash drifted and swirled lazily through the air, dancing gently to then lay motionless on the ground. It dulled the sounds around her, slowly creating a blanket over the charred and tangled wreckage that surrounded her. She kept blinking the ash out of her eyes, taking laboured breaths, ignoring the sharp twisting pains that wrought their way through her body. She didn’t cry, her body wouldn’t allow her and she knew that she couldn’t afford to. Lying there, unmoving, she scanned what she could of her surroundings, shaky shallow breaths rattling in her lungs and ribs. Past the ash-laden wreckage, she could see stars and the outline of her home planet, Earth. She kept her eyes focused on the big blue marble, not daring to move a single finger, partially out of fear for the pain she’d endure but also not to catch a glimpse of whatever injuries she’d acquired. A ringing sounded in her ears, maybe it wasn’t the ash that had laid a blanket of silence, but through it, she could hear a faint beep. Above her, in the infinite night, she watched as a meteor leapt through Earth’s atmosphere. Closing her eyes, and counting her heartbeats, she made a small wish. _“Let me see him one more time, I’m not ready to go the bar yet.”_ Listening to the faint, but steady beat of her heart, she sunk into darkness, her wish echoing in the small space. 

A loud crash nearby startled her awake and searing, burning pain flooded through her body. Ailsa Shepard lay gasping, each desperate breath piercing her ribs, she looked around with wild eyes. Ash had been thrown up into what remained of the citadel’s atmosphere, a large strut had collapsed and left a soft crater in the wreckage. Gritting her teeth, Ailsa slowly looked to where the gentle beeps were coming from. Where  her arm lay, flung out after she landed on what was once the Presidium, her omni-tool glowed faintly through the settled ash, beeping away. She didn’t let herself focus on anything else, refusing to register the burns, blood and bones she could see where her arm lay,  grateful that was left of her cybernetic upgrades had sealed the wound where her arm should have been attached . The beeps meant her position was being broadcast to the _Normandy_ and the rest of the Alliance, washing her body with brief release. Ailsa tore her eyes away, keeping her focus on the scenes above her; broken ships drifting across the stars, an Earth free of the incessant lasers of the Reapers, and the burnt wreckage of what remained of the Crucible and the Citadel. As much as she didn’t want to end things here, the silence and knowledge that the galactic war had ended would be a satisfying conclusion for most, but not to her. Commander Shepard might have wanted a break, but death was too finite. After all, she had escaped the clutches of death once before and she had no desire to return anytime soon. 

Time crawled past, each breath as laborious as the one before, Commander Shepard stared up to the skies above, recounting every member she served with. Her mouth was dry, everything ached and the omni-tool blinked and beeped away. Eventually, after all the ash had settled and the broken architecture of the Presidium had finally come to rest, voices  and crashing could be heard  in the distance . Initially, Ailsa was convinced she was hearing things. Uncertain of how long she had lain there, she knew that she couldn’t have much longer left without water, so hearing voices couldn’t be too far fetched.  Much to her delusional disappointment, the voices got louder as they slowly approached her. Two, gruff voices stood out in particular, and would have made her laugh if she had the energy left to do so. 

“Fucking find her! I can hear the  blasted  beeps, she’s somewhere near by!”  A gruff voice roared. 

Shepard’s eyes flew open, this wasn’t a delusion and she glanced around frantically, trying to find the source of her dear friend’s voice. With what little energy she had left, she croaked out “Wrex! I’m here!”, but it was barely more than a whisper. Trying again, she wheezed out a strangled “Wreeex!”, praying and hoping that the Krogan would hear her. Breathing heavily, composing herself for another attempt, she heard stomping get louder and more frantic as they locked in on her position.

“SHEPARRRRD!!!!” Wrex roared, crashing through the ash, sending out great puffs of it behind him. He pulled up his omni-tool and hurriedly pushed in a message, sending out a bunch of  dings in the surrounding area. Wrex knelt next to Ailsa, yanking off his helmet and tossing it down, gazing down at her, his scarred face knotted with worry,

“I was worried sick. SICK! And I’m a Krogan Battlemaster!” Wrex all but shouted at her, as he frantically tried to find a pack of medi-gel. Ailsa smiled up at the battered alien, and began to silently cry. In the distance, she could hear another krogan smashing and crashing his way closer to her location. Without looking, she knew exactly who it was, making the tears flow that bit faster.

Wrex noticed her tears, and scolded her “oh come on,  it’s not that bad. You beat death once, and you did it -”. Wrex was interrupted as Grunt crashed through the wreckage behind her, panting and heaving, and roared upon seeing the less-than-whole Shepard.  He echoed Wrex, roaring “SHEPARD” and skidded to a halt mere feet away from her, thudding down onto his knees, reaching out to pick her up. He reconsidered it upon remembering that humans, even cybernetically modified humans, don’t quite have the regeneration ability of Krogans. Grunt’s eyes darted around his Battlemaster’s body, while Shepard slowly raised her intact hand up to him, mirth and tears in her eyes. 

“There’s my boy”, she whispered as familial warmth briefly overtook the pain that pounded through her veins. Grunt spotted her hand and gently took hold of it, as if he was cradling a baby bird. He grinned, showing all his teeth and chortled. “You puny humans, it’s just a flesh wound” he guffawed, delighted at having found Shepard alive, “you’ll be better in no time, ready for the next round!”. Ailsa smiled weakly at her two krogans, vaguely listening to them make fun of her and her species, grateful for the distraction as some real medics finally approached. Wrex got to his feet slowly, large hands pushing down on his knees, showing his exhaustion, and quickly spoke to the medics while they readied a stretcher and unpacked their kits.

Shepard kept her eyes focused on Grunt’s, refusing to acknowledge what remained of her body. She took a short breath, and whispered “how long?” searching Grunt’s eyes while the medics busied around her, scanning and applying medigel and bandages.

His smile dropped a little, brows knitting together, he replied in a low voice “two and a half standard weeks,  but your locator only started pinging  us yesterday. Some didn’t believe we’d need medics by now, but we knew better.” He gently stroked Ailsa’s hand with his thumb, uncharacteristically soft for her big, rough son. She closed her eyes briefly, slowly absorbing the information. A medic interrupted her, telling her they needed to give her an injection, to which she nodded her head ever so slightly. As the needle pierced the skin, she flinched slightly, not enjoying the sensation of the cool fluid flowing through her veins.  She might be a battle hardened veteran, but she still hated needles, although she let out a long breath as the painkillers washed over her, dampening down the flames she felt all over. Laboriously opening her eyes again, she looked back up at Grunt, one last question burning in her mind. 

“Garrus?” she breathed out, barely audible as the medics set up their various beeping machines. The stroking on her hand paused, and started again hesitantly, as Grunt looked at Wrex, then back at her. 

“We haven’t heard from the Normandy, Shep.” He said haltingly, “But that idiot’s no fool, none of the crew are. They’re on their way.” he said resolutely, as if deciding for the universe, and for Shepard’s sake. She nodded again, and let her eye lids shut and slipped under the warm blanket of the opioids, finally feeling safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you bet your sweet ass that Grunt won't sleep till Shep's found.


	2. Lead Marshmallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard has survived the crucible firing, just, and is now on the long path to recovery. She comes to briefly, and has a very drugged up interaction with her spiky boyf.

Everything felt fuzzy, distant, heavy. As if she were a giant, leaden marshmallow. But she was warm, almost too warm, under the weight of the blankets piled on top of her. Eventually she heard the beeping of the heart monitor next to her head, and felt the cannula in her remaining hand, as well as the three fingered hand that held hers as tightly as it dared. She tried to say, “I feel like a big, leaden, toasted, marshmallow”, and she thoroughly believed she did, but in reality all that came out was a very faint, very slurred “marsh...mallow”.

As if from a mile away, she heard a groggy two-toned voice say “Shep, what the fuck is a marshmallow”. Ailsa recognised that voice, it was her favourite, the only voice she would ever listen to if she had to choose, and she fought against the weight of the anaesthesia and the morphine to open her eyes.  Shepard managed to open one eye, feeling slightly nauseous as the ceiling of the hospital room swam around above her, the bright light glaring and briefly blinding her. The ceiling wasn’t what she wanted to see, and it’s not where the voice came from, so she turned her head agonisingly slowly so see a big angular lump on her left, slouched over in the chair next to her bed. Blinking repeatedly, Ailsa managed to open both eyes and focus on her companion’s, a sheepish smile spreading over her face as his own came into clear view. 

Garrus sat, hunched over in a too-small, human chair,  wearing loose civvies that hung off his large turian frame, holding her hand with one hand, his other reaching out to gently caress her face. His face looked drawn, exhausted, but there was a sparkle in his eye.

He spoke softly, “hey you, what’s a marshmallow?” genuinely curious, although a little concerned . Ailsa’s head was still very foggy from the cocktail of drugs, and she felt as if she was stuff ed with cotton balls, and she found this to be the funniest thing in the entire Milky-way. Her smile cracked into a grin as her chest started heaving, breaking out into a giggling fit. Although absolutely delighted to see his best friend, commander, girlfriend, mate, giggling and laughing, Garrus was positively confused and completely dumbfounded, but laughed with her,  and leant down his head to gently bump into her own. Between sobs of laughter, taking deep breaths, Ailsa managed to whisper “I’m a marshmallow!” and broke down into giggles again. A  human nurse rushed into the room, as the giggling had raised her heart rate and set off the alarms on the monitor. The nurse quickly stepped over to the machine, and turned the alarm off, giving Garrus a scornful look that said “calm her down” but he didn’t notice, as he was too entranced in watching the saviour of the Citadel, the Collector Destroyer and The Hero of the Galaxy giggling about whatever a “marshmallow” was. 

The giggling abruptly stopped as Shepard’s eyes widened, and she quickly whispered “gonna be sick”  her eyes begging Garrus to find her something  to throw up in . Fortunately, the nurse had expected this and instantly placed a kidney dish in front of Ailsa’s face, and removed it once she’d finished  heaving. There was very little in her stomach , but she still went through the motions while Garrus gently rubbed the back of her neck, whispering soothingly while she took deep breaths. The nurse turned her attention to Garrus, casually saying “Don’t worry, this is a common react ion to the meds she’s on, but if you can help it, keep the laughing fits to a minimum.” 

Garrus nodded, gently rubbing Shepard’s hand, replying “got it, but, she did start it.” he looked at Shepard's face again, she was beginning to doze off after her laughing fit, and then back to the nurse, genuine intrigue present on his face.

“Do you know what a marshmallow is?” he asked the nurse. 

The nurse looked puzzled, wondering where the hell he'd heard of marshmallows, but answered him. “it’s a type of human sweet, very soft and very airy and fluffy. Why do you ask?”

Garrus chuffed a bit, amused “oh, the Commander said she was one. I didn’t know what it was so when I asked her, she ended up like this” The nurse nodded sagely, as if understanding all too well how the commander felt, and set about disposing of the dish and its contents. The nurse returned shortly with a damp cloth and a small bowl of warm soapy water, setting it on the table over Shepard’s bed. She turned to Garrus, stating “now I can clean her up or you can, it’s up to you.”

He nodded, taking the cloth from her and gently wiped down Ailsa’s face, fortunately what little had come up ended up in the bowl, but he was sure Shepard would appreciate having a clean face. After rinsing the cloth a few times, he turned his attention to the nurse, who was straightening things out in the room and taking notes on a data-pad, he asked in a very low quiet voice,

“How long until she’s a bit more lucid? I’m happy to see her awake but I’ve never seen her in this state. I’m aware she underwent a lot of surgery, but still...“, he trailed off, waiting for the nurse to respond.

“Well, being a biotic and even with partially functioning cybernetics, we had to give her a much higher dose to keep her sedated. A lot of older techniques were used that do not heal up quite as quickly, and the surgeons didn’t want to risk any wounds or stitches reopening. She should come to properly in the next 12 hours or so,  but I expect she’ll have moments of lucidity.” The nurse said, calmly and reassuringly. 

She set down the data-pad, patted Garrus on the shoulder and left the room again, saying “if you need help, press the buzzer and we’ll be down in a jiffy.”  The room was left quiet again, Ailsa breathing gently and evenly in her bed with her head turn ed slightly to Garrus, her hand gently squeezing his own. He pressed his head against hers again, whispering “Thank the Spirits you’re back.” Scooting the chair as close as he could, he settled into the comfiest position he could and, keeping a firm grip of her hand, Garrus promptly passed out,  relaxing at long last .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one's short, but I'm going for quality where I can. This is all very inspired by my own experiences with morphine and anaesthetic, so if it sounds unrealistic, it really ain't. I'll be dumping two chapters in a row next week because they're two long to be one, but need to be read together. If you're enjoying this and want to see where I'm going (it's gonna turn a bit noir, a bit cyberpunk) leave me some kudos or a comment!


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's awake! That's it that's the whole summary without rewriting the whole chapter here.

Murmurs filtered into the room as Ailsa came to again, accompanied by the steady beeping of her heart monitor. She flexed her fingers, fumbling for the hand that had been in it before, a small frown forming on her face when she couldn’t find it. She blinked, bleary eyes slowly sweeping the room. The main light had been turned off, but the various monitors provided a dim source, and the door to her room had been left ajar, letting light and sound spill through. Her name was mentioned in low tones, and she heard several of her friend’s voices just beyond the door. Itching to see and speak to them, she tried to push herself up, her haste making her forget she was missing an arm and a leg, while her remaining was full of tubes. She managed to sit up about 2 inches before her stomach muscles gave way, leaving her feeling pathetic and frustrated. Next, she tried speaking but anything she said just came out a croaky whisper. Exasperated, she grasped around with her good hand until she found a button. She lifted it closer to her eyes, still blurry from the sleep and the drugs, until she made out an alarm symbol on it, after which she promptly pressed it, repeatedly.

Within seconds, a salarian nurse came into the room and turned the lights on, gently and quietly closing the door behind him.

“Well hello there Commander Shepard, welcome back!” The salarian nurse beamed at her, “what can I do for you?”. Shepard pointed at the door and managed to whisper “crew”, and registering her own thirst and dry throat, she pointed at the cup and pitcher of water on her bed table.

“mhm mhm, I bet your thirsty you’ve been asleep some time. Let’s get you a drink then I’ll let them in? Make sure you can speak first!” The salarian’s voice was cheerful and chirpy, reminding her briefly of Mordin. Remembering Mordin sent a brief dash of cold water down her back, clenching her throat, but she pushed that aside while she sipped on the water threw a straw that her nurse had politely placed close enough for her to not use her hand. Her arm, and rest of her body, was covered in many individual dressings, protecting the multitude of scrapes and burns she'd accumulated. He checked her stats and updated the data pad at the base of her bed before opening the door and quietly announcing, in a very joyous tone “She’s Awake!” To her crew. Ailsa could hear the group outside of the door jostle around, voices raising in their excitement. Two large figures tried to push through the door first, crashing into each other.

“Get out of the way, whelp!” grunted Wrex, straining to get past Grunt.

“No way old man that’s my mo-Battlemaster!” Hearing Grunt’s little slip, Wrex stopped pushing and let the young Krogan through, a shit-eating grin smeared across his face. Grunt had a small krogan plush in the crook of his arms, a bunch of dandelions and buttercups wrapped in a strip of cloth and what looked to be a hand made “Get Well Soon” card complete with glitter and a crude drawing of himself and Ailsa. He set about finding a good container to hold his flowers, proudly presenting his card and plush to Shepard, while the rest of the crew followed Wrex into the room. Tali, Liara, Miranda, Jack, Samara, Joker, James, Javik, Zaeed, Ashley, Cortez and finally Garrus came into the room, crowding around her bed. Ailsa scanned across their faces, relieved and grateful to see that they were all alive and well, despite some of the new scars they’d accrued and the exhaustion clearly on display on their faces. After her second pass over them all, she frowned. Edi was missing.

“Edi?” Shepard’s voice was small, already knowing the answer but needing confirmation. Joker’s eyes briefly met the crew’s, and he looked back at Shep, shoulders slumped as if in defeat.

“Gone.” Was all Joker managed to choke out, now staring at the floor, his right hand gripping his left arm tightly. James stood next to him and squeezed his shoulder gently.

Liara cleared her voice, calmly and measuredly giving a bit more detail, “The blast wiped out every AI, most V.I.s, broke the relays and most of the more advanced equipment on the _Normandy_. It took us 5 weeks to make it back to Sol. We didn’t get the news of your recovery until we reached the edge of the system either.”

Shepard stared ahead, unfocused, gave a small “Huh.” before joining them back in the room. Focusing on Miranda, she used her hand to briefly gesture over herself.

“What about me?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but getting less croaky.

Garrus chortled, “You’re a marshmallow, duh” reaching down to smooth her hair out. Grunt and Wrex rumbled at this, having already heard the story. The rest, including Shepard looked at Garrus with confusion. He pulled up his omnitool, mandibles flaring into a grin, scrolling through it briefly, then held it out upon finding what he was looking for. He pressed play, and it showed a very, very high Shepard, giggling in her hospital bed and muttering about Marshmallows, mercifully stopping before she was sick.

“See, you’re a marshmallow.” Garrus rumbled, booping her nose, while the crew tried to stifle their own giggles and laughter. Ailsa’s face went red, she couldn’t remember saying she was a marshmallow, but fully agreeing with her own statements.

Once they had all calmed down, Miranda rested her hands gently on the bars of the bed, looking Shepard clear in the eyes.

“Well, I think you’ve guessed you have been out a while. Medical supplies were already low in the immediate aftermath of the war, and a lot of the technology we’d come to rely on had either been destroyed by the reapers or by the crucible, so we had to employ some older, more crude techniques.” She took a deep breath, and carried on, “We kept you sedated for about four weeks. All that was keeping you going when Wrex and Grunt found you were what remained of your cybernetics, and they burned out shortly after we got you into theatre. There was a lot of surgery, broken bones, missing limbs etc. In total you’re now due a new left leg and a new right arm, but the sleep you’ve been in has allowed you to mostly heal up surgeries we did. We do need to discuss whether or not we’re going to reactivate or replace your cybernetics, but this time it is entirely up to you.”

Throughout, Garrus had maintained a gentle stroking motion on the back of her head, helping Ailsa to process the information. She mulled over it a moment, while the crew kept shifting on their feet, glancing over at each other. A small smile creeped onto her face.

“Hey, at least I’m not dead this time” but the smile was cut short as a pang of searing pain shot through her, making her grimace. Tali pressed a small button into her hand, pressing it at the same time, sending a wave of relief through her body. Ailsa took 3 deep breaths as the wave of pain ebbed away, flexing and un-flexing her fingers as she let go of the tension it caused, holding Tali’s hand once it was more manageable. Her friends – no, her family - surrounded her, silently lending all the support they could, but she could feel in her heart that this might be the last time in a long time they would all be in the same room together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next were originally one, but it got big, so I split it in two so when you finish this one you can go to the bathroom, take your meds, get a glass of water or a snack, because I know I do the thing where I just read fics until 6am because I have dumbass-syndrome. Grunt is also my son and I fully believe that he has researched human family customs and is completely engaged in them because Shep is his mum, and he's a good boy.


	4. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew survives, and let Shepard know their plans.

Shepard took another sip of water and cleared her throat, “alright, I’m out of the game for a bit, what’s next for all of you?” she enquired quietly, shifting her gaze from one  squad-mate to the next. 

Tali spoke first, squeezing her hand, her bright, cheery voice ringing loud and clear , “Well Shep, I’m up for quarian councillor, but in the meantime I’m helping coordinate the mass relay and communication repair effort. The _Normandy_ only got back a week ago but since most of the galaxy’s forces are gathered here they’ve already made good progress. The tricky bit is going to be all the other relays once we begin travelling separate ways.” Tali’s voice was full of pride and hope as she explained her roles, and Shepard couldn’t help but smile up at her. “Also, before the geth shut down they were able to speed up our immune system, we’re able to walk around our live ships without masks now!” Ailsa squeezed Tali’s hand back, tears beginning to prick her eyes for her friend’s happiness.

Liara spoke next, hand up at her mouth in a thoughtful pose, “Well, my system is down currently but I’m lending whatever information I have to the repair processes, as well as vetting all the new council nominees. Most all of us can agree that since this was a galactic war, there should now be a galactic council, so every space-faring species is being allowed a seat. Bar the batarians, there’s so few of them left and many feel they should be monitored for a time to see if they fall back into their old habits.” Shepard nodded along, agreeing with Liara, although somewhat surprised every other race was going to be given a position, but she didn't currently have the cognitive function to question it.

Miranda quickly followed, “Well, you’re going to be in recovery for sometime and other than Dr Chakwas, no one knows you better medically, so I’ll be sticking with you. We can’t regrow your limbs at present due to the lack of tech and tissue laboratories, but Garrus and I have been designing some new prosthetics for you. We’re excited to try them, as they may give you more of an edge over flesh-and-blood limbs.” At the mention of the prosthetics, Ailsa tilted her head to the side, giving the idea due consideration, muttering “Robo-legs? I could be a cyborg?”. She had a twinkle in her eye, she’d loved watching early 21 st century human media, and had a soft spot in her heart for Major  Motoko Kusanagi. Miranda let out a sarcastic huff, “Yes Shepard, you could technically be a cyborg.” Ailsa grinned back at her, pleased with the answer.

"What about you Jack, what's next?" Jack smiled, soft and kind - an unusual sight for the ruthless biotic. "The kids did a good job, but they're still kids. A bit shaken by the war, even though we kept them behind the lines." The smile dropped briefly, before renewing "Gonna give 'em some down time, then kick their ass back into action. We're gonna need new biotic teachers and hell, some are getting as good as me!"

Samara followed up, speaking in a sombre tone “The Asari should have done more, sooner, during the war. As a Justicar I feel it is my duty to find the individuals responsible and hold them accountable for the fall of Thessia, which could have been prevented had they been honest with you sooner.” A few members of the crew murmured in agreement, and Liara nodded her head, staring into the space in front of her. “However, I am unable to carry on my investigation until the relays are fixed, so I am lending myself to the rebuilding efforts here on Earth.” She finished, a gentle smile on her face.

Everyone looked at Joker, who had been a bit absent. He looked up, feeling their stares on him and he started, “Who? Me? _Normandy_ ’s in dry dock now, boss, so I’m” using his fingers to make air-quotes, “’overseeing’ the repair efforts. To be honest, it could be worse. We jury-rigged the important parts after the blast, so they’re getting a proper fix now, but the worst of it’s in the AI core.” He stopped and took a deep breath at this point, his hands curling and his knuckles turning white, “EDI told me before the final push that she’d set up a fail-safe, a Faraday cage that would protect her from the worst EMP blast she could calculate, but we aren’t able to reactivate her yet.” 

Tali spoke up at this point, “This is one of the things I’ve been working on in my downtime, she’s not truly gone, just absent for the time being. We believe the geth have done a similar thing, but they centralised all of their collective back-ups in one location which is way out in the Outer Reaches. We’re going to be able to reactivate all of them but it’s certainly going to take some time.” 

At that, Ailsa felt a bit lighter, it was already going to take time accepting the deaths of the friends she had lost during the war, but she would have been overcome with grief and guilt had she been responsible for the destruction of EDI and the Geth.

She looked to James next, who gave her a swift, crisp salute. “Report, soldier” she jokingly ordered.

“Well Lola, as you can imagine you are an important asset to not just Humanity, but the Galaxy as a whole so I’m one of your babysitters, although it is an informal posting. Formally, I am assisting the global search and rescue units, with Cortez. He’s my chauffeur.” Cortez scoffed at that, a smile on his face. “Casualty reports are still coming in and we’re doing what we can to reduce the total.” She smiled, managing to respond with a quiet “at ease”, to which James just winked, making her chuckle.

Javik groaned next to him, rolling his eyes at the banter. “Primitives” he said under his breath, and then louder “I’m providing Liara with more details of Prothean society, with the goal of assisting in creating a much more civilised galactic society, although it will pale in comparison.” At that, everyone scoffed and Joker retorted “OK, Grampa” in a very sarcastic tone, quickly hiding behind James before Javik could respond physically.

Before things escalated any further, Zaeed’s gruff voice sounded out “I rebuilt a pub, a few blocks from this hospital. No profit yet but ya’ know. War ‘n all that. Got some real classy ladies in, providing wholesome entertainment of course,” he paused to wink with his good eye at Shepard, who had grimaced at the mention of classy ladies, but he soldiered on “and a poker table in the back. It’s fun, you should visit some time.” Wrex and Grunt looked thoughtful at the mention of the pub, quickly making hushed plans to see their old pal Zaeed. Ashley had backed up from Zaeed a step, displeased with her position in the group. Taking her turn, she stepped closer to Shepard’s bed, giving her a short nod, “well, the Alliance has a lot of work to be done, so I’m stuck there helping coordinate various troops-”

“BORING!” Grunt declared as he butted in, “Screw the Alliance. Hackett keeps trying to worm his way up to his room but we’ve got a squad of krogan watching this room and keeping him out. No way he’s getting in here until YOU” Grunt pointed a big finger directly at Shepard “ask him to come here.” He puffed his chest out proudly, feeling smug that he’d interrupted Ash and slighted the Alliance at the same time. Shepard tsked at him, but was smiling, happy her boy had her back. The crew figured she was owed a break, or retirement if she wanted it, and they were giving her every chance to make the decision herself. Wrex slapped Grunt on the shoulder in approval, grinning at him and grumbling “Yeah, we’re minimising whatever involvement the Alliance has beyond your squad-mates. We only let Vega in because he’s as close a krogan as a human can get.” At the mention of his names, James bounced with enthusiasm, a big toothy grin on his face which Wrex reflected back to him. “And until we can get back to Tuchanka, the rest of the Krogan are assisting in picking up and moving heavy things – we’re not engineers but hey, at least we’re strong.”

Garrus was the last to speak, having spent the whole time sat close to Ailsa’s head, tenderly stroking her hair. He was completely enraptured in it, having completely blocked out the rest of the room. Wrex nudged him, rousing him from his trance, chuckling “You’re up next, Turian.” Garrus paused briefly, shrugging his shoulders before resuming his petting without ever bothering to look up at the rest of the crew. “Well it’s obvious, I’m sticking with you Shep. Got some hierarchy business to sort out, but I’m a bad turian. You’re my complete priority.” He gently butted his head against hers, making everyone in the room groan. Shepard couldn’t help but smile, the painkillers in her system were dulling the pain and making her feel warm and heavy inside. She looked at the faces of her crew again, sad at the absences of the departed members, a frown striking her face as she realised there was another member unaccounted for.

“Where’s Kasumi?” she said, slurring her words as the painkillers began to fog up her faculties again. A giggle was heard in the room, making everyone turn around. Kasumi stepped into the group, pushing in between Vega and Javik, uncloaking.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice Shep, good to see the crucible didn’t fry your brain along with everything else in the galaxy” Kasumi and Shepard grinned at each other, a few of their squad-mates still a bit stunned that they hadn’t noticed the lithe little woman in the room. The krogan were especially stunned, almost panicked that she had sneaked past their lookout and themselves. “Don’t worry about it big guys, I actually had to try to get in here! That means no one else will manage to get in!” Grunt still frowned, composing a mental note to reinforce security regardless.

“As for me, there is little thieving and dishonest work to be done at this time, so I’ll be lending my expertise to the engineers and to your security!” Kasumi sounded downright cheerful, a welcome change to the exhaustion that had sounded off some of the others. At this, the Salarian nurse came back in, clearing his throat as he began to usher them out.

“I know, I know, but also you all know she needs rest. I already broke the rules letting you all in at once.” The crew grumbled, leaving reluctantly, decorating her room with the cards and flowers they’d all brought for her. Grunt shoved past the nurse, muttering as he went. The salarian stood, blinking expectantly at Garrus after the rest left.

“Not a chance buddy. She already died once, she nearly did again. You are _not_ getting me away from her.” Garrus stated tersely, mandibles drawn in tight and a threat rumbling out of his chest as he spoke.

Ailsa began nodding off, worn out just by listening to her friends, and fumbled around with her hand for Garrus’, clutching it as tight as she could when she found it. The salarian huffed but relented, and squared up the room, ensuring she had fresh water and checking her readings. He stopped and looked at Garrus thoughtfully.

“Would you like a bed, Mr Vakarian?” asked the nurse, having seen the uncomfortable sleeping positions Garrus had taken up over the past few nights.

“That, uh, that would be nice, thank you.” Garrus replied quietly, stroking Ailsa’s hand as it twitched while she dozed, muttering incoherently. A few short minutes later, the nurse returned to the room with another bed, this one designed for a turian, and helped Garrus arrange the room so it would be next to Shepard’s. Satisfied with Shepard’s vitals, the nurse bid him goodnight and left the room, turning off the lights as he went.

Before he settled down to sleep, Garrus made sure to double check the security of the room – he didn’t doubt the strength and competency of the Krogan guard outside and throughout the hospital, but he would be damned if anything or anyone got to Shepard ever again. Once he was satisfied, Garrus straightened up the cards and flowers the squad had brought in, making sure that Grunt’s handmade one was on the table next to Ailsa’s water. He didn’t quite understand how she had become a parental figure to the hulking beast that was Grunt, but he appreciated the commitment of the young krogan. Picking up the plush toy Grunt had brought, he gave it a squeeze, then tucked it into the bed with Shepard and took a picture of the two of them together to send to her all-but-adopted son. Garrus climbed onto his bed, and curled up on his side as close to Shepard as he could manage, and stroked her hair again as he answered messages on his omnitool, yawning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's holiday season and I like to be a few chapters ahead of publishing so there may not be an update next week, cause all my gifts this year are crafts and I am behind on making them. I'm not a fan of Ashley, which is why she gets rudely interrupted. I know there's a lot sickeningly sweet fluff, but I want to make Shep happy before I go and turn things on their head. She deserves it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up and at em, Shep.

“- eight...nine...ten! And take a breather, Shepard!” Miranda exclaimed, letting go of Ailsa’s shoulder. Shepard’s back thumped down onto the pillows behind her, sweat soaking through her shirt and sticking her hair to her head and neck.

“Jesus, fuckme, it’s easier wrestling a Brute than doing this.” She said, gasping, releasing her grip on the bar above her that she had been using to begin sitting up by herself again.

“You sure do ask that Jesus guy to fuck you a lot, should I be worried?” Garrus rumbled as he helped her get comfy again, mischief in his eyes. Ailsa narrowed her eyes at him, knowing full well he knew who Jesus was. She took a long sip of water, and feebly nibbled on a digestive biscuit that Garrus had passed her. He and the rest of the crew had been bringing in lots of snacks for her – they had all taken one whiff of the hospital food and then took turns bringing in meals and nibbles that the Commander would at least find edible. Shepard sighed as she watched Miranda move from her side to her remaining leg.

“This isn’t even the worst bit, Shep. That’s the thing about having non-functional cybernetics – you’ve got to do all the hard work yourself now.” Miranda said, picking up Shepard’s right foot, turning and pushing it, paying little attention to Ailsa’s face as she gritted her teeth and gripped the sheet with her hand.

“How does this feel.” Asked Miranda, as she began pushing Shepard’s foot up, bending her leg at the knee

“Tight. Sore” Her eyes were squeezed tight, and she had reached out to grab Garrus’ hand, finger nails digging into his tough hide. Miranda let her leg down slowly, settling it back down onto the pillows that it rested on.

“Well, it is getting better Shepard. It’s going to take a lot of perseverance but you’ll get there. You took the reapers out, you can manage a bit of physio” Shepard nodded, eyes still shut and breathing through the pain while Garrus ran his thumb up and down her arm. She had been refusing to take the meds before and during physio. They wiped her out and old experiences had taught her that she needed to be able to feel everything during the recovery process so she knew she wasn’t pushing it too far. Garrus understood this, proud of her for keeping a stiff upper lip but still unwilling to watch her go through unnecessary pain.

“I think that’s enough for today Miranda, we need her energy for one more event today.” He said, winking at Shepard.

“What are you on about? I’m in recovery, all the events I have are meals, physio and asking you to lift me onto the toilet.” Ailsa’s eyebrows were furrowed, she wasn’t too keen on surprises and she had gotten used to the routine that her, Garrus, Miranda and Dr Chakwas had fallen into since she had woken up 3 weeks ago. Garrus and Miranda looked at each other, a silent war unfolding between them. Miranda held her hands up and shook her head, and eventually Garrus conceded.

“Alright fine I guess we’ll spoil the surprise” he drawled, mandibles fluttering lightly in excitement. “We’re getting out of here Shep! Wrex, Grunt and the rest have been working hard and have refurbished a house for us.” She squeaked in excitement, surprised she's getting out so soon and delighted to be getting out of the septic smelling hospital and away from the hustle and bustle in the corridors.

“It’s not too far from here, so Dr Chakwas and I will be able to pop round if needed. We’ve had a nurse volunteer to stay next door as well, so Garrus won’t be left to take care of you completely by himself. Your mental health is just as important as your physical, and we know that this is not the best place for you.” Miranda’s voice was warm, she was happy to see her friend getting out of the hospital, and she was glad to have an excuse to leave.

“So when are we going?” Shepard had begun wriggling in excitement, eager to see something else.

“Well, we need to pack, or rather I need to pack, and you need to be ‘formally discharged’.” Said Garrus, as he stood and began to tidy up her snacks, preparing them for moving. He handed her her Krogan plush, which she tucked under her chin and held close to her body, completely comfortable to be so vulnerable in front of them.

“Most of the paperwork for that is sorted. Your wounds are all clean; what has scarred has scarred well, we’re not worried about them reopening any time soon; your vitals are all steady and your, um, bowel movements are somewhat regular, regular enough for us to not be worried.” Miranda stuttered a bit towards the end, but she knew better than to think the Commander would be embarrassed. Garrus and Shepard were fully aware of each other’s bodily functions and completely unashamed of them, after all, Garrus had been helping her wash and use the bathroom since she had woken up. Initially the nurses had tried to assist, but Garrus wouldn’t let them, stating it was his responsibility as her mate to help her through the whole recovery process. He had barely left the room since the _Normandy_ had returned.

* * *

It had taken the _Normandy_ 5 weeks to get back to Earth following the blast, and Shepard had been in the hospital for two weeks at that point. She had been kept in an induced coma, which Garrus struggled to understand at first. As soon as the airlock had opened, he had sprinted to the hospital, ignoring the reporters that had come to meet the _Normandy_ at the tiny spaceport. Few nurses had tried to stop him as he sprinted through the corridors, they had been given ample warning by the very armed, very big Krogan guards that a “Spiky shit house of a Turian” will be charging in as soon as the _Normandy_ had landed. They thought they were exaggerating. They were wrong.

Grunt was waiting for him when  Garrus found the room, panicked,  his chest heaving  from running down corridor after corridor . Before letting him,  Grunt pulled him aside to let him know what had happened to her, giving more detail that the report had let on, and updating h im on what surgeries had been performed. Garrus keened, desperate to see his mate and be by her side, constantly looking from Grunt to the door. Grunt had taken sympathy on him, and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, which gave Garrus pause, unused to this show of affection. They looked at each other, both sharing an intense love for the Commander: Grunt loved her as his mother, and Garrus as his soul mate. “Don’t expect me to call you dad, Turian.” Was the last thing Grunt said before letting him into the room. 

Upon seeing Ailsa, his keening stopped, replaced with a purr of delight. She was alive; a bit broken, missing a limb or two, but alive! She was surrounded by beeping machines,  wrapped in bandages, covered in burns and scratches but was still very much  Commander Shepard . Garrus was immediately by her side, thanking the spirits and tenderly touching over her various injuries. He only left that room when he had to eat, speak to the Primarch or got dragged out by staff members to let them do their jobs.

* * *

“Right Shep, are you comfy? You got your krogan, your cards? Got your snack for the journey?” Shepard nodded to each of Garrus’ questions, making sure her Krogan was securely wedged between her hip and the wheelchair she was now sat in. Garrus had found as many blankets as he could and had swaddled her before getting her comfortable in the wheelchair, fussing and making sure she wouldn’t get cold. He’d also made a small book out of the cards and letters she’d received, which had multiplied over the past few weeks as more people had heard of her survival. She had this in her lap, and she had been reading through them during her lucid moments when she wasn't doing physio. Ailsa watched as Garrus slung a duffel bag over his shoulder, containing what few belongings of theirs that had made it into their hospital room. He crouched down in front of her, a smile on his face. 

“Right, Commander Shepard, are you ready to break out of this joint.” She smiled in response, and reached out with her hand to grab the neck of his shirt, tugging on it as hard as she could. He obliged and lent in towards her, brushing his forehead across hers, and poked out his tongue to give her cheek a tiny lick. She giggled at that, and pressed a kiss onto his scarred mandible before wrapping her arm around his cowl, holding him in for a hug.

“I love you big guy, I need to say it more often.” She whispered into his cheek.

“Mhm, I love you too.” He pulled back a little bit, looking into her eyes, full of love, loyalty and trust. They shared a quick kiss, her plump soft lips against his slightly rigid leathery ones. Garrus straightened up, ruffled her hair – making her huff in protest, and walked round the chair. He double checked the brakes, opened the door and started wheeling her out.

“Let’s blow this joint.”

“Oorah!” Shepard saluted with wrong hand, a big grin on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the holiday season so this is gonna be the last chapter for two or three weeks while I catch up on sleep, with my pals and on the chapters.


	6. The High Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus and Shep finally get out of the hospital!

The air outside the hospital was crisp and fresh, a welcome change from the stale, sterile smell that clung to everything within the building. Garrus had pushed her out through a back door, craning his head to snoop around corners, ensuring no one saw them leaving. From what Ailsa had heard, Wrex and Grunt were giving the press the run around while Garrus smuggled her out and into a waiting sky car. She pulled the blanket tighter around her with her remaining hand, shivering slightly in the cool breeze that gusted across the ground. Gazing around, she realised that she wasn’t in London – it had never occurred to her to ask where they were - it was not high up on her list of priorities. Shepard turned her head to look back to the hospital, and noticed it was relatively unscathed, which seemed impossible given the destruction that had swept over the planet and the rest of the galaxy. Garrus began to move them away from the door and towards a sky-car that sat nearby, engine already running. She took in their surroundings, admiring the sweep of the mountains that surrounded the hospital, capped in soft snowy peaks which glowed in the early Winter sun. Clouds floated across the sky, spilling down and around the hills, twisting and writhing in the high winds above.

Ailsa watched Garrus’ hot breath puff into the air, remembering that Turians aren’t too fond of low temperatures.

“Garrus”

“yes Shep?”

“aren’t you cold” She asked.

“A little bit, but, it’s nice here. Happy to put up with it for views like this. It’s... Peaceful, serene, after all we’ve been through.” He responded, smiling warmly down at her, reaching to open the back door of the sky car. He dumped their bags in the back, and pulled out another blanket. Turning around, he wrapped Ailsa in the blanket before opening the front door and gently lifting her into the passenger chair.

“Okay Shep, are you comfortable enough? We shouldn’t have too far to go anyway.” He busied his hands tucking her blankets in and securing her belt, causing her to resemble a human burrito. He made sure it was just slack enough so it didn’t rub or chafe her healing body.

Ailsa nodded, settling down in the seat. Garrus made quick work of stashing her wheelchair in the back, gently closing the doors then clambering into the driver’s seat. Ailsa paid little attention to the road, instead spending the drive staring out the window. She recognised where they were, delighted to be back in the land her family came from.

“Are we in Scotland?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the sights of the green pines that carpeted the hills, or the blanket of snow that had settled on the hills, or the river that meandered through the glen which they drove through.

Garrus turned his head to her, still paying attention to the road,

“Yeah, we are. London is a complete mess, and what few hospitals and other clinics that were intact were at capacity when you were recovered. The krogan had been informed that up here there were hospitals and clinics that hadn’t been completely overwhelmed by Alliance so they brought you here. It’s a beautiful location, even if it is cold and wet. Never seen anything like this on Palaven.” Garrus rumbled, checking the locator every now and again, although there wasn’t another road for them to take.

They wound their way through the hills, Garrus taking his time navigating the alien, twisty roads, and eventually pulled into a track that was lined on either side by old trees – naked oaks, elms, beech and alders that had lived through many wars, and now hopefully the last, were swaying and rustling in the wind. The vehicle slowed to a stop in front of the gable end of an old cottage. It was long, low and white washed, thick stones making up the exterior. Ivy crawled up one of the walls, tangling around the windows that sat buried in the hefty walls. Underneath the windows were plenty of plants in pots of various sizes and colours, still carefully maintained in spite of the war. Likely to spite the war, if Shepard remembered Scots. The door had been recently modified, made taller to accommodate species of a larger nature, the paint around it fresher and brighter than the rest of the building. Next to the door grew a gnarled and grizzled Rowan tree, which was bowing down under the weight of the berries that it had grown, determined to show the world that despite its age, it was as alive as ever.

Shepard swept her gaze over the old building, a smile on her face. It looked like house in the pictures her parents had shown her when she was younger, of a life she never thought she would live. Garrus placed a hand on her shoulder affectionately, smiling lovingly at her when she turned to look at him, before exiting the sky car. She remained sat in her seat, looking around the property, admiring how intact and complete it was. Off to the side, chickens clucked and bobbed around, pecking at the dirt under a great yew tree that grew in the corner of the garden, an old guardian against any wayward demons and evil. Garrus opened the door at her side, and bent over to let her wrap her arm around his cowl. He lifted her with ease and set her down in her wheelchair again, tutting and huffing while he adjust her blankets again.

“Hey, big guy, do we get to look after those chooks?” Shepard asked, excited by the presence of the chickens, her gaze fixated on them through his arms.

“Chooks?” He responded, confused, stopping his motions briefly to look behind him at the small flock.

“Chickens, those birdy things on the grass over there. Chooks. S’what my mum called them. Remind me of you, a little bit.” She teased.

“oh, right. No, I believe this is being rented to us by a local man. He said he had plenty of intact properties to spare if people were in need of housing, and he doesn’t believe in charging for it, so long as we keep it in good condition. In fact, he helped with the renovations himself when he heard that Turians and Krogan would be coming and going. I’m sure he’d be happy to let the Great Commander Shepard feed his ‘chooks’.” Chuckled Garrus, as he pushed her up the new ramp that led to the door.

He swung it open and warm air wafted out and over them. It smelled of fresh bread, herbs and spices – someone had been baking in there recently. The door opened into a small hallway, where there were plenty of empty hooks for coats, and empty racks for shoes along the wall. It opened out into an old rustic kitchen, where an ancient, worn farmhouse table sat resolutely in the middle, old wooden chairs neatly tucked underneath, piled high with various breads and cakes. One wall of the kitchen was lined with counters and had an antique but sturdy cooker in the middle which radiated a merry heat into the space. A large fridge sat in a nook, surrounded on either side by well stocked shelves, which appeared to have levo and dextro supplies from a quick glance. Beyond the kitchen was a small sitting area; a small but comfortable looking sofa faced a cheery fireplace, which had been stacked with firewood and recently stoked, cracking and popping away in its own little language. Two deep, comfortable looking armchairs also faced the fire, swimming in cushions. The walls were covered in pictures and paintings of the local area, all in various styles. It felt like home, to both of them.

“Hey Garrus, make sure to wipe your feet before you take me any further?” Shepard said, upon seeing the warm and welcoming home, turning slightly in her chair to look up at him.

Garrus looked down at her, and grumbled, “I’m no animal Shep, I know to wipe my feet.” and made sure to loudly drag his feet across the mat, each motion as sarcastic as he could physically make it, chuffing and grunting as he went. He wheeled her in, stopping at the table to inspect the treats left for them. One pile of treats was marked “L” and the other “D”. He gave a delighted trill as he recognised some of the baking, they were turian in origin, even if they didn’t look quite like they did on his home planet. Shepard carefully reached out with her hand to grab a cinnamon bun close to the edge of the Levo pile, but she couldn’t quite make it. Garrus spotted what she was doing and wordlessly edged it closer, understanding that she needed to be able to do some things herself, without asking. As much as he wanted to do everything for her, her sheer stubbornness and independent attitude to everything meant that he had to take a step back and let her find her limits. She was not too proud to ask for help, but that pride would be wounded if she was treated like a fragile object. Ailsa opened her mouth wide, cramming in as much of the cinnamon bun as she could, moaning in delight at the fact it was home made and she wasn’t eating in a hospital. Garrus smirked down at her, her cheeks full of fresh pastry. He carefully tore apart his own treat, popping pieces into his mouth, then pushed her over to fireplace.

“Now Commander, the big question, sofa or armchair?”

Shepard pondered the question, hand up to her face in a thinking pose before pointing at the armchair closest to the fire. It looked odd, being her left hand and not her right, but it was good to see her falling into old, if predictable, habits. Nodding sagely in response, Garrus moved her as close to the chair as possible before lifting her into it. He waited as she made herself comfortable, enjoying the heat radiating onto his back from the fire.

Once he was sure he wasn’t needed, he stood up.

“Okay, Shep, wait here. One more surprise!” he said, leaving quickly before Shep could respond. She wriggled deeper into the chair, relishing the soft give of the cushions, basking in the cheery fire. The aches and pains in her body remained, held at bay by the remnants of her last dose, but they now melted away as the warmth washed over her. Her eyes closed, enjoying the peace – no beeps, no nurses coming in every 30 minutes – just the sound of the wind outside, trees rustling, chickens clucking, and the fire whispering away in the hearth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's had good holidays! I am from Scotland and so I'm gonna write what I know in that respect. Still fluffy, still loving. Slowly moving along. I do plan for things to get exciting at some point, but gosh it's nice to write Shep being happy.


	7. It's Going to Cost You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus, ever so thoughtful wonderful Garrus, has a great surprise. More fluff.

Garrus came back into the room, two large cardboard boxes in his arms, and his heart melted at the sight of Shepard snoozing gently in the chair, a smile on her relaxed face. He set down the boxes as quietly as he could on the table, sitting in the chair next to hers, placing his hand gently on her thigh as he settled back into the comfy chair. Peering around the room, he came to admire the old, rustic aesthetic of the cottage. It was completely alien to him, Turian architecture was clean and pristine, featuring sharp angles or perfect sweeping curves. In a direct contrast of Turian style, the cottage was cluttered and a touch chaotic, but in a homely way. Everything served a purpose, it wasn’t stuff for the sake of being stuff, each object was placed where it belonged and told him a story about the owners. The ceiling was low, but not too low for his tall frame, and the large wooden beams had been left exposed, contrasting well with the general whitewash that painted the large stones of the walls. The kitchen floor was paved with large slabs, polished down over decades – more likely centuries – of use. The paving continued into the lounge area, but was covered by a large rug which feature an ornate swirling pattern of burgundy, ochre and indigo. He took his heavy boots off, and sunk his toes into the rug, rubbing them through the soft pile. Garrus could get used to this.

Looking back to the boxes on his table, he made the risky decision to rouse Shepard. He gently clasped her shoulder, saying her name and giving her the slightest shake. Her eyes slowly blinked open, smile still on her face.

“Hey big guy. What’s the surprise?” She said, stifling a yawn and clumsily brushing her hair out of her face, still unused to using her left hand.

Garrus hummed in response, a delighted buzz in his chest. He reached to the boxes and picked up the first one, marked “A”. He sat it on his knees and opened it, peeling aside the tissue paper that hid its contents. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Shepard attempting to reposition herself to see better, wincing and struggling, but determined none the less. Moving the box closer, he balanced it between the armchairs so that Ailsa could easily see what lay inside.

Nestled among the tissue paper was a mechanical arm made of matte carbon fibre and chrome. It hadn’t been designed to look completely human or organic, instead celebrating its synthetic origins. Shepard gasped, she hadn’t given much thought to what her prosthetics would look like, having been so focused on her physiotherapy the past few weeks. Garrus picked it up carefully, holding it up and turning it so Ailsa could poke and prod. The fingers and pads of the hand were made of a soft leathery material, reminiscent of the softer more suede-like patches of Garrus’ hide. The top of the arm, where it would connect to a shoulder had a pin and several little clamps. She traced her fingers over these and looked up at Garrus expectantly.

“So. Arm 3.0, I guess. We designed it with combat in mind.” He paused, measuring up Shepard’s emotions, which hadn’t changed from the delight on the reveal of the prosthetic. “I know we talked about ‘After the War’ but we both know that neither of us can really give up the lifestyle, it’ll find us if we don’t go looking for it.” At that she nodded, wrinkling her nose at the same time.

“You’re right Garrus, but we can still take a break before throwing ourselves back into any kind of fight. Tell me more about the arm.” She prodded him in the chest at that, wanting more detail.

“Light poly-carbon fibre, but strong, it’ll hold up as well if not better than your already-enhanced bones, and should be resistant to slashing, smashing and explosions. Doesn’t mean you can just take that kind of damage, it can break eventually.” He warned, fully aware of Shepard’s penchant for destruction, “Chrome re-enhancements in the more weak points, hydraulics to amplify physical power and momentum so now you can punch people even harder. Miranda worked with me to ensure you can still run your biotics through it, so you should be able to one-punch a krogan if you really wanted.” Shepard grinned at that, “you are going to have to get fitted with a socket in order to place this in. We thought about whether or not you’d want it to be easy to remove, and decided that you would take it off on very rare occasions. As a result, it’s going to be wired up to your nervous system so you’ve got full autonomous control over it.” He took a deep breath at this point, brow plates knitting together “That is going to be painful. Fortunately once the socket’s fitted, you shouldn’t ever need to do it again. It’ll be a bit of a procedure to remove it for maintenance, but we’ve made certain that as much of that can be done without taking it off. Sound good?”

Shepard’s fingers kept flitting over it, moving the artificial fingers up and down, curling them into a loose fist. She looked up at him again, “When can we fit the socket? I’ve been over two months without an arm and, gotta be honest, it sucks.”

“Whenever you want, Miranda said your scars have healed up well enough that they can be operated on again, you will have to be conscious for it though with minimal anaesthetic – she has to make sure each element is sending and receiving the right signals.”

“I guess it’ll be the same for the leg. Is that in the other box?”

He nodded, putting the arm back in its paper and setting it aside before reaching over to pick up the other one, which was about twice as big. He opened it again, pulling out the limb. It had many of the same design elements, but featured a lot of honeycomb style gaps in the thigh.

“Now, pretty much the same design. Lightweight, strong, reinforced where necessary, strength amplifications and biotic compliant. But. We added in something extra.” At that he set the foot on the floor, and pressed a button next to the knee joint after making sure there was ample space. As soon as he had touched it, the shin plate of the prosthetic sprang apart, expanding upwards and sideways, creating a small shield. Shepard laughed as she watched it.

“You really like getting yourself stuck in deep in firefights with nowhere to go, so we thought ‘How about she just carries her own cover’ and we figured this out. It’s why the thigh is like that, we had to sacrifice some weight there to add it in further down. You just press that button and up it pops. Press it again” He pressed the button, causing the shield to break down again and fold itself neatly into the shin, “And it stores it. You can put a safety on it so it can’t activate at inopportune times.”

Shepard reached out her hand to place gently over his, gazing right into his eyes.

“Thank you Garrus. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

“You won’t be thanking me when it comes to fitting this, trust me. It’s good tech, but the process for joining it to your system is… bad.”

Shepard kept her gaze fixed, silently willing him to elaborate.

“Miranda, she showed me the vids on the procedure before we began designing these. She wanted to make at least one of us knew what was going to happen each step of the way. It’s a lot of screaming, a bit of thrashing, but I know that you need to be back to your old self.”

Shepard nodded slowly, “Yeah well, what’s a few hours of pain compared to lying in ash for three weeks?” She moved her hand to the scarred side of his face, cradling it. “I can handle it. Thank you, Garrus, so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been in a writing funk then I read all of Skyward by Brandon Sanderson in 2 days so I'm feeling a bit more capable now. Highly recommend.


	8. An Arm and a Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's taking the next step to actually taking steps again.  
> Trigger warning; surgical procedures, injuries and the like.

Garrus woke slowly, eyes glued together from much-needed sleep. He was cosy, surrounded by soft blankets and pillows. During the night, he had been roused every few hours by Ailsa. She had been weaning herself off the painkillers, stating simply that she hated how tired and foggy they made her, but without them she slept sparingly and winced near constantly. Her remaining limbs had flailed during her sporadic sleep, the withdrawal causing her dreams to become vivid and, at times, nightmarish. She had kicked out, catching Garrus in the soft skin of his waist, waking him up briefly before he nodded off again after making sure she was somewhat asleep.

As he woke, he stretched his limbs and relished the sheer comfort of the large bed they had been provided. He was interrupted by Shepard, booping him on the nose. She had surrounded herself as best she could with pillows, propping herself up in the right spots to alleviate pressure on tender areas. She had become lopsided when she booped Garrus, and struggled to right herself. He slowly sat up, rolling out his shoulders, before helping her sit up straight.

“We’re fitting the sockets today, right?” She asked, almost vibrating in anticipation.

“Yeah. Don’t get too excited, they’ll be fitted but it may still be a month or two before you can use the prosthetics fully. Still got a lot of muscle to recover on your squishy bits.” He squeezed her arm, emphasising his point. Shepard frowned, frustration playing across her face. It had been nearly three months since she had activated the crucible, and her muscles had atrophied considerably, especially since her cybernetics were no longer working. She stared out into space, light years away from the cottage they sat in. Since waking up from the sedatives, Shepard had done this often, making Garrus concerned. He had asked about it, unhappy that she was going so far without him, but she brushed it off – not yet willing to shirk that particular burden.

Garrus pulled her in closer, circling her small body with his arms and holding her gently, making sure that no tender bits got squished against his carapace. He tucked her head into his neck, resting his mandible lightly on her hair.

“I know it’s hard, the limbo that is healing, but this too shall pass.” She nodded against his neck, her good hand trailing small circles on his plates. He continued, “And honestly, it’s nice to just have some peace and quiet. No orders, no war, no guns, just us.”

She pulled back at that, smiling up at him, fully present in the moment.

“So, big guy, when does Miranda get here? I know it’s going to be painful but I want this done and out the way sooner than later.”

“Well, it’s...” Garrus brought up the clock on his omnitool, “7:44am now, so I bet she’ll be here in 16 minutes. I’d suggest making you breakfast but she recommended you don’t eat before the procedure, on account that she doesn’t want it making a surprise reappearance halfway through.” Ailsa pouted and huffed, puffing the hair out of her eyes. Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

* * *

Miranda arrived promptly at 8am, bringing in a large bag with her. She had her best poker face on, so her nerves didn’t show. This would be the first time she had performed the procedure herself, which would be enough to make her waver, made worse by the fact she was performing it on a friend. Garrus was stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, staring absent mindedly out the window. Miranda joined him, watching the chickens in the garden scratch around.

It was another changeable day in the highlands - the sun peeked through the clouds in an intense burst, illuminating everything for a fleeting moment, briefly forcing steam into the air from the damp grass. Far above, the winds drove the clouds across the sky, writhing and wriggling as they gathered before unleashing their rain on the grounds below. Both Miranda and Garrus were enraptured as they watched the sunlight vanish, only to be replaced by heavy raindrops which bounced off the ground. The hens scattered, taking off for shelter in their coop.

“Is the guest room suitable for me to work in, Garrus?” Miranda asked, still fixated on the weather outside. The rain had transformed to hail, which rapidly coated the ground in a temporary beaded blanket.

Garrus started briefly, jumping in his skin. He had been in a complete dwam, lost amongst chicken-y thoughts.

“Oh hi Miranda. Didn’t hear you come in. Yeah the guest room has been tidied and cleaned, should be fine.” Miranda watched as he poured the long-boiled water into a mug, and stirred in his Kava. She picked up her bag and walked further into the cottage, easily finding her way to the guest room. Inside she began to set up, pulling a sterile plastic sheet over the bed, before covering it with another sterile cotton one. She pulled over a chair next to the bed, as well as one of the night-stands. Taking deliberate and slow care, she sterilised all the surfaces she and Shepard may come in contact with, before unfurling her surgical tools on one of the tables. Above the bed, she carefully arranged the overhead lights she had brought with her, so she could clearly see what she was doing. Lastly, she arranged the sockets, that had been custom created for Shepard, on the bed, placing them in the approximate location of her limbs. Satisfied with the layout, she put another sterile sheet over everything before leaving the room to find her patient.

Shepard was sat on some cushions that lined a deep windowsill on the south facing side of the cottage, where she sipped slowly at some water and watched the rain outside. Miranda approached, set on achieving her goal today.

“Okay Shepard, I’m all set up. Are you ready?”

Ailsa nodded, still watching the rain. Garrus came over, gently picking her up and setting her down in the wheelchair that had sat empty next to the windowsill. Silently they moved into the make-shift surgical theatre, where they laid Ailsa down on the bed, already dressed in a surgical gown.

Miranda sat on her stool, and raised the bed up so she wouldn’t be hunched over while she worked. She pulled her hair back, tying it tight behind her head and slipped a surgical mask over her mouth. Next she pulled on gloves before uncovering her tools and materials. Garrus hovered at the base of the bed, uncertain of where to be.

“Garrus,” Miranda said, still focused on organising herself, “You would be best sat next to Shepard and keeping her calm during the procedure.” She looked Ailsa in the eyes, “The good news is that I can do the initial stage with local anaesthetics, but for the rest I’m going to need you to be able to feel everything. It will be unusual, it will be uncomfortable, it will be painful and I am sorry for that. But.” She exhaled, “we need to do it that way, and once we begin we can’t stop. Do you understand?”

Ailsa kept her gaze level and steady, nodding her head slowly, “Yes Miranda, come on, you rebuilt me once, I can handle it a second time.”

Miranda raised a perfectly maintained eyebrow at that, she picked up an odd looking mesh that had sat in a bath of pink liquid by her tools, setting out strips on a tray next to what was left of Shepard’s right arm. “I took the liberty of preparing your bones for anchoring the socket when you were in your coma, so at least we won’t have to do much drilling today.” Her voice had a tinge of humour in it, despite being as deadly serious as ever. She picked up a hypodermic needle, already loaded with the anaesthetic, and quickly jabbed all around the puckered scar tissue. Once it had taken effect, Miranda secured a tourniquet at the top of the limb, pressing around to make sure the blood had ceased flowing, then she levelled a scalpel on the edge of the scar. Ailsa turned away at that point, to look at Garrus, not even curiosity could drive her to watch.

Shepard didn’t flinch as the blade began to slowly and methodically remove the scar tissue, and kept her eyes fixed on Garrus’s. Initially, they sat in silence as Miranda worked, but it grew deafening and stifling. After what felt like eons had passed, Ailsa broke the silence. “So, Garrus was hazy on the details about how this works other than ‘It hurts’.”

Miranda kept going, neatening up the edges of the tissue, while she answered. “First, the scar has to come off. We had connected up the severed nerves with the skin while you were out, to prevent any phantom limb syndrome, but now we need the nerves free. Once I’ve removed it all, I’m going to adhere this mesh on top – this will act as a conduit between the socket and your nerves, and will also speed up healing. Before it fully sets I have to attach the flexible part of the socket to it, and make sure all the inputs and outputs are accurately calibrated. I also have to make sure the socket can’t be detached without significant surgical interference, so while you were in your recovery surgeries I drilled in the plugs for the attachment screws, which is going to make attaching it to the remaining bone much easier. I only have 30-45 minutes to do all of this, it’s unsafe to leave the tourniquet on too long, so if you have any other questions, please ask Garrus.”

Shepard nodded along, vision blurring as she dissociated slightly. Noticing this, Garrus squeezed her hand to keep her present, clearing his throat at the same time.

“I got a message from Tali this morning, Shep. The relay is going through its first round of testing next week, so it should be fully repaired within the next month or so.” He said, drawing her attention.

“Oh. That’s good. Any news about the comm relays?”

Miranda had finished taking off about half off the scar tissue at this point, placing the strips in a sterile kidney bowl to her right, completely focused on her task.

“They have managed to repair the comms in this system but there’s been little in terms of what’s come through them.” Garrus paused, a tinge of pain coming through his subharmonics, “It’s unlikely anyone else will have repaired them elsewhere by now, since most of the galaxy’s engineers were focused here.”

Shepard rubbed his hand comfortingly, ignoring the occasional tug she felt through her right shoulder. “Your family will be fine, you Vakarians are tough to kill. How is the Turian fleet holding up?”

Garrus looked thoughtful, returning Shepard’s affection, “They’re managing. Victus says some are enjoying Earth, especially around Africa and Australia – there’s talk of making a multi-species colony on Australia.”

“Oh yeah? That’s an unusual spot to pick.”

Miranda paused briefly, disposing of the blade she had been using and picking up a new one, and began again.

“It’s hot there, we like that, naturally. The Krogan like it there too, lots of things as likely to kill them as there are on Tuchanka. The Quarians have been good, providing plenty of dextro-based food with their live ships. It also helps that some scientists on Earth had been learning to synthesise and grow dextro food, so we’re not going to be starving anytime soon.”

Shepard nodded back, mulling over everything for a few minutes. She had been paying little attention to what had been happening outside of the cottage – most of her waking time was spent on her physio, feeding the hens, enjoying the simple life or being lost in a haze. Ailsa didn’t really want to know about the news, but now that she was getting her limbs back it seemed appropriate to dip her toe back in.

Miranda disturbed her from her musings, stating simply. “The easy bit’s done, the anaesthetic should wear off shortly and then it’s on to the ‘fun’ part.” She used air quotes on the fun part, accentuating her sarcasm. As the pain began to creep in, Shepard closed her eyes and worked through the meditation exercises that Garrus and Chakwas had been encouraging her to do over the past few months. In through the nose for four – identify the pain, hold for four – acknowledge the pain and allow it to be, breathe out for six – release the pain and let it dissipate. Her right arm screamed at her, raw and searing pain shooting up her shoulder and straight into her core. Miranda placed a gentle and firm hand on her shoulder, holding her still.

“I have to apply the mesh now Shepard. Please try to hold still.” Her brown eyes meeting Ailsa’s own green ones. Ailsa’s eyes were wide, frantic as she tried to control herself. Miranda swiftly applied the damp mesh over the exposed wound, quickly stitching it in place at the edges. Before Ailsa could register what happened next, Miranda had placed the socket on top of the mesh, quickly plunging sinister looking screws through the flesh to meet their home in Shepard’s Humerus, where they instantly settled in. Wires trailed from the socket to a device in Miranda’s hand, which she was using to calibrate the socket.

“Shepard, I know it’s sore, but if you can, can you move the thumb on your right hand.” Ailsa barely heard her through the pain, the edges of her visions turning white in her agony. She glared at Miranda, sweat breaking out on her forehead, teeth clenched together, spitting out her reply.

“I don’t have a fucking thumb Miranda!”

Miranda just stared back at her unbothered. “I know, but I have to calibrate this to your nerves, and I have to match the signals, so please think about moving your thumb.”

Shepard kept her gaze on Miranda, blood rushing and hammering in her ears, as she thought about moving her thumb. Miranda nodded as she got a positive reading, adjusting things.

“Okay, now your index finger.”

And so they carried on, Shepard writhed in a pool of sweat, jaw clenched and eyes screwed shut. Satisfied that her readings were accurate, Miranda prepared another hypodermic needle, and swiftly jabbed it around the socket. She breathed a sigh of relief as Ailsa began to relax on the bed.

The pain slowly abated, but Shepard could still feel the occasional throb and pang as the nerves began to connect with the socket. Her hand had formed a vice grip around Garrus', which she began to loosen as the pain subsided. She eventually opened her eyes and looked at her turian. He looked back at her, his face pale and drawn, his plates dull. Garrus had struggled to sit and let Miranda work, his instincts screaming at him to protect his mate and relieve her pains. It had taken all his self control to just sit and hold Shepard’s hand as she gritted her teeth and endured the procedure.

“Round 1 of 2 big guy, I can manage it.” She said, wincing every other heart beat when her nerves throbbed.

Miranda sat, taking a breather. It had required a lot of her concentration to perform the procedure, Shepard had been a model patient and remained relatively still but her suffering had been a heartbreaking distraction for Miranda.

“Shepard, I’m going to let you, Garrus, and I take a rest before we do your leg. I fear that doing both in quick succession could cause some kind of irreparable damage.” She said, as she pulled off the gloves and mask, dumping them in a bin next to the bed. Garrus nodded in response, the tension leaving his shoulders.

* * *

By the end of the day, Ailsa had two sockets attached to her body and her brain was swimming in a haze of painkillers. While the arm socket had been relatively quick to set – 25 minutes in total – her leg had taken twice that. She had nearly passed out once or twice while Miranda calibrated the socket, prompting Garrus to growl at Miranda to “Hurry the fuck up.” Ailsa was just glad it was over.

She was propped up on the sofa in front of the fire, head resting on Garrus' carapace while they watched some old Earth TV. Garrus chortled every now and then, having spent enough time around Shepard and her crew to understand the humour, careful not to jostle her too much. Miranda had left the house once she was happy that Shepard was recovering comfortably, or at least as comfortably as she could. Ailsa dazed, cosy and safe in her haze, grateful she’d never have to relive this day again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than most chapters simply because it is. It took me a while to write this, as I had to go over some things with my pal to make sure I hadn't left loose ends and that it made sense and was plausible, ken whit a mean like? Next chapter might not be for a while, as I'm getting to the stage where I have to not only know what I'm writing, but how to write it. BTW this fic is now longer than my thesis, and I've written it in less time than my thesis :|  
> Dwam - dreamlike state, "lights on but no one's home" (not a daydream)


	9. Bwaam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words, words, words. The galaxy's moving on, Shepard's struggling to move on with it.

Dark, dreary and dreadful clouds shrouded the sky above. The air was filled with the ratatat and cracking of guns in the distance, slowly diminishing as time passed. Deathly behemoths stalked over the land, seeking out their quarry and greeting them with an agonising end. Nearby, the whimpers and gurgles of what few survivors were left punctured the immediate silence between the sounds of slaughter. Shepard lay sprawled in an alley in London, armour charred and rent. Unknowable pains pulsed in her body as she lay still, trying and failing to slow down her breathing. She couldn’t move her head. She couldn’t watch as she listened to a husk scurry and clamber over the wreckage that littered the alley. Ever nearer it creeped, groaning and wheezing as it approached, fingers scratching on the cobblestones. Her eyes widened in fear as it slowly crawled onto her, synthetic fingers pinning her limbs down. She itched to pull a trigger, punch it, but she could no longer feel her arm. It leaned in close, screaming in her face, fluid dripping out of it’s cavernous mouth onto her face. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move. She could only watch and feel.

The husk continued to hold her down as cannibals approached from the end of the alley. She tried to shake her legs, kick at them, as they descended on her. Her heart beat raced and her breathing became frantic as the cannibals ripped off her armour and tore at her flesh. The husk leaned in, a fraction of an inch away from her face, screaming and bellowing, she tried to close her eyes or look away but she was frozen. She stared back at the husk, terror seeping through her bones as its face slowly morphed into yet another one of her crews. Today it was Jack’s face, howling at her.

All of a sudden, it changed to Garrus’ face. But his was unchanged, no husk features present. The cannibals stopped and vanished, the smouldering wreckage of London transformed into the quiet bedroom in Scotland. The ear-shattering lasers of the Reapers began to quieten down. They never stopped, but they became quiet enough to ignore. Garrus gently stroked Shepard’s cheek, concern etched on every plate of his face. Ailsa finally blinked, and she was able to move. Her eyes had been streaming tears while she silently grappled with her night terror, and Garrus now gently wiped them away. Sitting up slowly, she let herself be pulled into Garrus’ arms before sobbing and clutching at him.

“Who was it today?” He asked, brushing his mandibles against her hair.

“Jack” Her voice was flat and hollow, exhausted.

“We’ll call her today then.” Garrus paused, taking a measured breath. “It might be worth speaking to Dr Chakwas about those meds, they’d let you sleep without the dreams.”

Shepard stiffened, only for a second, but long enough for it to be noticed.

Garrus huffed, breath puffing into her hair.

“Look, Ailsa, I know you don’t want to be on any medication but you haven’t slept more than three hours at a time for a month now. You’re suffering, no -” He stopped again, holding her tighter. “We’re suffering from PTSD. We both need to take care of ourselves.”

She nodded against his carapace, tears streaming down her face again.

* * *

“Tali pinged me again, Shep. They’ve successfully repaired the relay and have sent crews back and forth across it with no problems.”

They sat on the sofa, wrapped around each other under a thick blanket, idly watching the fire in the hearth. The flames flickered and licked at the logs, occasionally letting out a hiss as they found a damp section, popping every now and then when it spat out a spark. Shepard and Garrus had sat there for some time, bathing in the silence of the highlands. It was never truly quiet, the trees rustled and whispered in the wind, the rain would hammer down from the heavens, and the hens would cluck and scratch outside.

Shepard refocused her gaze back into the room after Garrus spoke, replying softly, “That’s good. Means everyone can start heading home soon.”

“I don’t know if everyone will. It’s been a long 6 months, and some of the other races have settled here. Even other Turians, surprisingly.”

“Huh. Well I guess there’s a lot of real estate on Earth now, couldn’t hurt to boost the population a bit.”

Garrus chuffed at that. There was no escaping the reality that the whole galaxy now faced, and dancing around the topic didn’t help much either. A good 60%, at least, of the whole Milky-Way population had died during the Reaper war – it was not yet known just how many colonies had gone completely dark. Reports were coming in slowly through the comms relays, Garrus was just glad to hear that they were being repaired as quickly as they were. It was becoming clear, however, that just as the war had been a collective effort, so too would be the rebuilding and repairs.

Garrus idly skimmed the news on his visor, eyebrow plates raising at the current top articles. The council had begun to reform, with each of the surviving races electing a member to represent them. This was likely to change in time, as many colonies and planets were still out of touch but the foundations were needed sooner than later. With the exception of the Batarians, every race now had a seat on the council and they all had a lot to say.

The Asari and Salarian representatives had had a rough time during the first meeting, according to the news. They were blamed considerably for how much the war escalated – had they been more willing to pool resources with the humans, Turians, Quarians, Krogans etc then the galaxy-wide mortality rate would have been lessened. To their credit, the members that had been elected did not reject this reprimanding. No one had escaped loss, and all wished a resolution had been found sooner.

Multiple times they had attempted to reach Ailsa, ask her to mediate and inform on her choices through the war, but Garrus had blocked their communications. He had good reason to – she was struggling enough with her own healing and recovery, she didn’t need to pour that energy into a situation she was not suited for. On top of that, she had shown little interest in the news – every time a report began to come through she flinched and rapidly turned it off, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

Garrus worried greatly for her. Following the fitting of her limbs they had attempted to go out in a local town for a meal. Be a normal couple for an evening. But it didn’t turn out like that. Ailsa had jumped at every noise, every sudden movement. She wouldn’t sit still during their food, eyes darting around the small, quiet restaurant he had booked, hand reaching to her – empty – thigh holster every time the door sounded. It was made worse when they had left and made a short two minute walk to the car. An advertisement for a shoddy, rushed Blasto movie played in the street and featured the reaper noise. Upon hearing it, Ailsa had frozen solid, before panicking, trying to drag Garrus behind cover and find a firearm. Thankfully, the street had been quiet, but one or two onlookers still witnessed her panic attack, recording it.

Garrus had blocked communications about that too.  What surviving news stations there were had hooked their claws into it – some were sympathetic to Shepard’s reaction, knowing full well that most would have a similar reaction and were calling on the film to be shelved. But others were unkind, to pick a nicer word. They claimed Shepard was less now, weaker, incapable, damaged,  _ useless _ . Garrus had sent complaints to all the stations that had reported on it, requesting privacy about the situation, and understanding. They fell on deaf ears so he created viruses for them and unleashed them on their servers instead. 

As Garrus mused on the recent events, idly rubbing circles between Ailsa’s shoulders, his omnitool pinged. Alliance, again. Admiral Hackett,  _ again _ . He forwarded it to his visor, preventing Ailsa from reading it. Something, something, something, proud of Ailsa, something something responsibility, something something something recognition and reward. Blah blah blah. Garrus had to commend him. Hackett had given up messaging Shepard directly, since he just got an automatic, somewhat rude reply that he'd let Grunt compose. He had learned to instead send it to Garrus, even though it was about as effective as sending it to Shepard, but every time Hackett wrote he was thoughtful and careful with his words, never sending the same thing twice even though it all meant the same. The alliance was proud, they’re responsible for her safety, they wanted to award her for her service. But they still never offered to discharge her, or leave her alone. Hackett always hinted at asking more of her, and that made Garrus growl and bristle. She had given everything and more already, and it was never enough for them. Even the Turian hierarchy had let him go his own way, they still supported him and recognised him but never asked of him.

Shepard shifted in his arms, having gone lax as she drifted off. Garrus turned off his inner monologue, focusing on her. She had gained so much strength since she got her new limbs, in spite of her sleeping troubles. He stroked her hair as he recalled all the hikes they had been on recently, always seeking to get further and further away from civilisation. In this moment, in his arms in front of the fire, she was at peace, and that meant he was as well. He silenced his omni tool and shut down his visor, settling down into the cushions before dozing off. The constant blinking notification on his omnitool didn't wake him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise i last published a chapter for this a month ago and it's not cause i forgot it's cause i didn't know how to write this chapter. it ended up being quite different from what my plan intended, but i prefer it this way. If you're enjoying the fic, leave me a comment or kudos! It helps motivate me to keep going.


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